Honey Flava

Susan got bored quickly, worked around the clock, and therefore had little time for bullshit—that’s why she liked Pleasure Principle. The club had been started by Janet Myers. Susan and Janet had been partners at Mullens & Schneider. After several years there, Janet became disenchanted. She was sick to death of the old boys’ network, and the law no longer excited her. The difference between Janet and Susan was, Janet was uncomfortable trying to fit into the mold society had created for women in business, while Susan had decided she would create her own mold and everyone else would have to find a way to fit.

One night Susan and Janet had had a drink with a prospective client at a local gentlemen’s club. Susan and Janet were both attractive women, and Susan presumed that this client was in a position to kill two birds with one stone: he could sit and watch the sexy, scantily clothed women onstage bump, grind, and remove their clothing while he imagined what both Janet and Susan looked like under their gabardine suits. That night Susan was wearing a black, single-breasted Barneys suit, with a white silk blouse underneath, which she had left unbuttoned enough to reveal her ample 38D cleavage. The skirt stopped right above her knees and showed off her wonderfully shapely legs. The formfitting waist of the jacket accentuated her curvy hips, and instead of the ponytail she usually sported, her long brown hair cascaded past her shoulders, lending her a dual air, as conservative wild woman. Instead of a flesh-toned lipstick or gloss, she was wearing bright red, a stunning complement to her mocha complexion. Susan liked playing cat and mouse as much as the next guy, but she would never under any circumstances be the mouse, and if that was what this client had in mind, he would be sorely disappointed.

Janet’s blue shirt was buttoned up to her neck, and she had chosen a suit that camouflaged all of her assets. You could never tell that Janet was five feet eleven inches, 135 pounds, with an impressive set of hooters and an ass as round as a basketball. Her legs went on for days, but the long, pleated skirt she was wearing hid all evidence of that. What she couldn’t hide was that shock of red hair and beautiful freckles. Janet was a natural beauty who required little embellishment, and even with a suit of clothing like a potato sack, she couldn’t hope to hide that beautiful face of hers.

Susan was hooked from the moment she entered the gentlemen’s club. She was always fascinated with the sheer power of sex, and this place was a glowing representation of its influence.

Despite her earlier reservations, it only took Janet half an hour at the club to figure out what a fucking gold mine the place was. Always the businesswoman, she started her wheels turning. The bar was turning over money hand over fist. The women were scantily clothed, and the combination of libido and alcohol helped money to flow. Janet had been looking for a business venture that would work, and this seemed like a moneymaking idea, something that hadn’t already been done. It could be risky, but it could also be exactly what she was looking for. So-called gentlemen’s clubs were all over New York City, but she had never in her life heard of a “ladies’ club.” Within five years she had started a chain of clubs all over New York City. Her first, her baby, was Pleasure Principle. One year after all the kinks had been ironed out, she opened Epic, and two years after that, Dionysus, Eros, and the Lollipop Lounge.

Janet had tried to get Susan to come in as her partner, but Susan liked things just fine the way they were. Pleasure Principle was Susan’s home away from home, and as with anything that gave her pleasure, she protected it. She was Janet’s attorney, and despite the local bureaucrats’ desire to shut the places down, Susan made sure they didn’t.

Susan walked in, sat down at the VIP table expressly reserved for her, and surveyed the room. Sam, a muscular black dancer with an extremely large dick, came over to the table. Susan palmed his taut ass and stroked his butt cheeks. He was wearing a white G-string, which made his dick look even larger than it was. She had fucked him before, and he was well-endowed. She had only fucked him once, though, because he didn’t take instructions well and he talked too goddamn much. She couldn’t stand it when a man felt the need to talk through the entire thing. This was probably all well and good for someone looking for love, but she wasn’t caught up in illusions of some great romance. She wanted to get fucked, licked, and sucked and usually had little time to get that done. She didn’t have time for whispered words of love and admiration; she was on a clock.

Susan ordered a dry martini and thought of asking Sam whether Wiley was working tonight, then thought better of it. The dancers were artful at “cock-blocking.” They knew Susan paid well, and each vied for the coveted role of stud for the night. Tonight, she wanted her pussy eaten. Wiley was the man for the job. One night he ate he

r out so good, she went home and masturbated to the feeling his tongue had left implanted on her pussy walls.

As she sipped her martini, Marvin Gaye’s soul-stirring tune “Sexual Healing” began to play, and Wiley made his way onto the stage. He wasn’t a big man, about five feet nine inches tall and about 165 pounds, but he looked like Mickey Rourke. She had masturbated many a night to 91/2 Weeks and Wild Orchid. Wiley executed an artful bump-and-grind routine, leaving Susan’s pussy dripping wet. Her cunt was doing involuntary Kegels and she was glad she hadn’t worn any panties. No use in wasting time. She wanted whoever would be dining on her feast tonight to get straight to it. Susan winked at Wiley and he quickly got her meaning. After his show he came over to where she was sitting.

“Hey, Susan, how’s it goin’? Can I get you anything?”

“How’s that nice long tongue of yours?”

Susan would have liked nothing better than to jump on the table, spread-eagle, and let Wiley go to town, but the last thing she wanted was for this place to get shut down. So, they proceeded to a “private room,” classified as a place for private drinks and conversation for legal purposes—its true and primary function being a “fuck den”—and there wasn’t a room Susan hadn’t christened. In one of the rooms Susan had convinced Janet to install a chair similar to a dentist’s, but with stirrups, like at the gynecologist’s office, and harnesses. No expense was spared having it made, designed to Susan’s exact specifications. It had a massage feature and could tilt 360 degrees. Susan shut and locked the door and welcomed sweet release. She positioned her legs in the stirrups and scooted down to the end of the chair. Her pussy was wide-open and her juices trickled onto the chair below in anticipation.

“Lick every drop of cum that comes out of my pussy—I’m going to give you some very easy instructions, and all you need to do is follow them. Okay, Wiley?”

“Okay,” he responded.

“You see that stool over there in the corner? Bring it over here and sit down, right in front of me.”

Wiley wheeled over the spinning stool, and when he sat down, he was exactly eye level with her pussy. He knew he had his “work” cut out for him, because the cushion on the chair was already thoroughly saturated. He began licking first from her ass crack where her cunt juices had dripped, then licked up to where her pussy began. The more he licked, the wetter she got. He began to think this tongue bath would never be complete. For every lashing his tongue gave, there was yet another cascading wave of liquid pleasure. He licked and she came. He sucked and she came. Eventually Wiley realized no amount of licking was going to dry this multi-orgasmic pussy banquet before him, so he plunged his tongue deep into her pussy, exploring her tunnel like his mouth had a cock extension. Her phallic haven made his dick just as hard as the men he fucked in his spare time. In many ways she reminded him of a man. She was beautiful and shapely, but her every other characteristic was like a man’s. She demanded excellence in every facet of her life and accepted nothing less. He admired her, even as one of her “humble servants.”

“No, no,” Susan said. “Lick my clit. Yes…. Like that…with the tip of your tongue. Oh, fuck…yes!”

She grabbed a handful of Wiley’s chestnut-colored hair and urgently pushed his tongue even deeper into her cunt. He gave her exactly what she wanted, a long, slow mouth fuck, and he gobbled up every drop of cum that gushed from her, licking with the flat of his tongue for maximum coverage. His mouth could feel her swollen pussy lips, and he hoped the services she required went beyond her usual request for a tongue bath. She must have been reading his mind, because suddenly she answered his silent question.

“Wiley, can you fuck?”

“Only you can be the judge of that.”

“I think not, Wiley. A man knows if he can fuck or not, even if he doesn’t want to admit it to himself. So, can you or can’t you?”

“I will fuck you so good your pussy will conform to the shape of my dick.”

“Damn, I like a man with confidence. Let’s get to it!”

Susan had Wiley sit in the chair. She mounted his pulsating erection so that her back was facing his chest and wrapped her pussy walls around him, devouring his cock with hard, demanding thrusts, sliding up and down his shaft, as their fucking built in intensity. Each time Susan slid her pussy down to the very end of his dick, she contracted her muscles so tight she thought she could almost feel the lines of his veins protruding through the skin of his now extremely taut member; when she reached the tip, she started all over again. She loved the way this dick filled her pussy up, but more than that she loved the effect of her strokes on him. He looked ready to pay her for her services rather than the other way around. Her techniques in fucking made her feel masterful; and she was. As Susan ground her pelvis into his now quivering form, she could sense that Wiley was about to shoot an impressive load into the Trojan he was wearing. If there was one thing Susan liked even more than having her pussy eaten out, it was getting fucked in the ass, so before Wiley could shoot his load, Susan dismounted his dick, encouraged him to rise from the chair, and told him exactly what she wanted.

“No, lover, we’re not done yet. I want you to give it to me up the ass.”

He bent Susan over the seat of the chair and slowly eased his cock into her anxiously awaiting butt hole. Susan gasped as soon as the head of his cock was inside her. He increased the speed with which he ass-fucked Susan, causing her to counter each of his powerful thrusts. He fucked her ass so good Susan dripped great gobs of pussy juices onto the floor. The room was a combination of pungent odors, her cum, his sweat, the mixture of cock against ass—all of which made Susan hornier than she already was. As Wiley’s breathing became labored, Susan knew her fun was about to come to an end. With one gigantic thrust Wiley exploded, his hand flat on her back. He was so spent, he would probably have fallen over if he hadn’t been holding Susan’s back for leverage. He gripped the condom he was wearing and slowly eased out of Susan’s now satiated asshole.

Any money she paid Wiley for his services tonight would be well worth it. On a scale of one to ten he had been at least a nine. Uhm, Susan thought, I might need to put him on staff.

Susan and Wiley put their clothing back on, did a double check in the mirror, and prepared to exit into the main area of the club. Susan handed Wiley ten crisp $100 bills before caressing his cock through his pants.

“That is a first-class tool you’ve got. If I were you, I would have that pussy-pleaser insured with Lloyd’s of London,” Susan said.